


won't you come on over, baby

by goldenraeofsun



Series: the story of us [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, Minor Kaia Nieves/Claire Novak, POV Outsider, Teacher Castiel (Supernatural), Teacher Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:00:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26286070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenraeofsun/pseuds/goldenraeofsun
Summary: All Kevin wanted to do was cheer on his girlfriend's softball team.But then he gets stuck sitting next to Claire, who's only there to ogle the opposite players, and Mr. Novak, who's there to "support the team" for the first time this season, and Kevin's hopes for a pleasant game go flying out the window.Especially when Claire seizes on the idea that Mr. Novak is really there to stare at the new softball coach.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: the story of us [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1908529
Comments: 36
Kudos: 396





	won't you come on over, baby

_“Kick his ass, Peppy!”_

Kevin glares across the softball field at the rival coach, egging on Edlund High's pigeon mascot. “Can he say that?”

Claire rolls her eyes. “You’re such a dumbass. He can say whatever he wants to say. He’s a teacher.”

“He’s surrounded by impressionable minds!” Kevin insists.

Claire picks at her cuticles. “We’re sixteen. Not five. Everyone here has heard the word ‘ass’ before. And if you haven’t, I’ve got some bad news for you.”

“Why are you here, anyway?” Kevin shoots back.

“The view,” Claire says, leaning back against the bleachers smugly.

“This is a girl’s softball game,” Kevin says stupidly.

Claire tugs her ponytail straight. “Oh gee, nothing gets past you, Kev, does it?” She wolf whistles because she can.

Kevin freezes, eyes narrowing.

Channing turns around on the bench and glares at her.

“Just don’t perv on my girlfriend,” Kevin huffs.

“As if,” Claire sniffs. “Channing is not my type.”

“What is?”

“Shut up and watch the game, nerd.”

“The mascots are racing for a plastic trophy. There isn’t a game to watch yet,” Kevin points out. He glances at his watch. “It doesn’t start for ten minutes.”

“Fine, then sit down and shut up. I can hardly hear myself think.”

Kevin crosses his arms across his chest. At least the weather’s nice. It would have sucked to be stuck here with Claire if it was drizzling or cold. The field smells of mown grass, and the sky is a picture-perfect shade of blue overhead.

They’re surrounded on all sides by parents, sitting in reserved silence, waiting for the real game to start. There's the occasional titter of conversation behind them, but otherwise most of the noise is centered around the opposite team's coach, happily yelling himself hoarse.

Claire and Kevin don’t talk for the rest of the sham race. Claire buries her head in her hands as Peppy beats Carver Preparatory’s mascot, Oscar the Owl, handily. She groans, “Why do we suck _so hard?”_

“Probably because we focus on academics rather than athletics,” a new, familiar voice says mildly.

“Mr. Novak!” Kevin squeaks. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to support our team and watch the game,” Mr. Novak says. He stands over them with his shoulders hunched, warily eyeing the parents watching him curiously. “Claire, can you move over?”

“No.”

“Claire,” Kevin hisses, scandalized. How could she _say_ that to a teacher?

“Find your own seat, Uncle Castiel,” Claire says without looking away from the action on the field.

“You’re her uncle?” Kevin blurts before he can stop himself.

“As much as Claire would like to deny it,” Mr. Novak says, "I am." He gingerly sits down in the little room left on their bench.

Claire begrudgingly shifts. Her elbow digs into Kevin’s side before he can move out of the way fast enough. 

“I don’t think I’ve seen you at any games before,” Claire says, her eyes trained on the opposing team. A dark-haired girl walks up to the plate, her wild curls tucked into a ponytail under her helmet.

“I wanted to see what the fuss was about.”

“What fuss?” Claire asks, eyebrows raised. “We suck.”

“We’re not that bad,” Kevin protests. “We won the first game of the season.”

“And lost the four since then,” Claire says flatly.

“That’s… not a good record,” Mr. Novak says delicately, his blue eyes narrowing as they scan the opposite team.

“It’s their new coach,” Kevin says, nose wrinkling. “They were not this good last year.”

Mr. Novak hums. “Then we’ll just have to step up to the plate.” He smirks at his own pun.

Claire snorts. “You are such a doof.”

Kevin shoots her an offended look on behalf of Mr. Novak, but otherwise does not dignify her insult with a response. Future Presidents of the United States must always take the high road. Kevin pointedly leans past her and tells Mr. Novak, “The coach is their new English teacher, or something.”

“Or something,” Mr. Novak echoes distractedly, still staring at Edlund High’s softball team. No, wait, at Edlund High's softball _coach._

Claire sits up in her seat, looking at Mr. Novak with wide-eyes. “No way,” she breathes. 

“What?” Kevin asks.

“You _like_ him,” Claire says gleefully to Mr. Novak.

And Mr. Novak… blushes.

Claire whacks him in the arm. “Oh my god, I am so telling Dad.”

Mr. Novak silences her with a glare. “Your father has no business in my love life. Or lack thereof,” he adds.

“Uh huh,” Claire says, unfazed. Kevin has never seen her this self-satisfied, including the time she got that 97 on Ms. Flagstaff’s midterm, the highest in the class. She turns to Kevin. “What’s his name?”

“Whose?”

“The softball coach,” Claire says impatiently. “Keep up, Kev.”

Kevin throws her an annoyed look. “Why do you think I would know?”

“Because you’re the most competitive person in sophomore year. You know everything about everybody,” Claire says matter-of-factly.

Kevin tries not to appear too pleased with himself. “I heard his name is Mr. Winchester.”

Claire quickly nudges Mr. Novak for confirmation, who sighs. “Yes, his name is Dean Winchester. But that’s all you’re getting out of me.”

Claire’s eyes gleam at the obvious challenge. “Have you talked to him, Uncle Castiel?”

“Yes.”

Claire waits for more information, her face pinching as Mr. Novak doesn’t offer anything else. She declares, “You are no fun at all.”

“That is why I became a teacher,” Mr. Novak deadpans.

Kevin grins. “You’re a little fun.”

“Thank you, Kevin.”

Claire coughs. It sounds suspiciously like “suckup.”

All three of them watch the next few batters in silence, booing as Edlund scores their first run.

“Okay Mr. Know-It-All,” Claire starts, and Kevin isn’t sure if she’s talking to him or her uncle. “What do you know about her?”

Kevin asks, “Who?”

“The girl who just scored,” Claire says, and Kevin can tell from the way Mr. Novak tilts his head, he’s listening in too.

“Nieves?” Kevin asks. Claire doesn't react. He tells her, “Not much. She’s a sophomore. Softball is her only extracurricular.”

Claire grimaces. “You’re no help.”

“Her best subject is English,” Mr. Novak says, surprising them both. “She’s won several short fiction awards for her horror novellas.”

“How do you know that?” Claire says, her mouth falling open.

Mr. Novak shrugs. “Teachers talk.”

“You mean, you talk to Mr. Winchester,” Claire clarifies.

Mr. Novak throws her an exasperated look. “I pay attention to gifted students. And despite Principal Adler’s assurances to the contrary, they aren’t all enrolled at Carver.”

“Are you hoping to poach her?”

Mr. Novak shakes his head. “She seems happy at Edlund,” he says, “but I have been exploring scholarship options just in case.”

“You should get her to transfer,” Claire says firmly.

“Why?” Mr. Novak asks.

Kevin rolls his eyes. “Because Claire has a _crush,”_ he says, sing-songing the last word.

Claire punches him, hard, in the arm.

 _Ow,_ he mouths as Mr. Novak looks the other way.

“Shut up, Kevin.”

“You’re not subtle at all,” Kevin hisses.

Claire mimes slitting her own throat, her glare murderous.

Kevin sits back in his seat, his arm throbbing with victory. He knew something was up with Claire ever since she started coming to these games. She never came to a single one last year, so it was usually only Kevin and a bunch of parents.

Athletics really aren’t all that popular at Carver Preparatory.

But then Claire wandered onto the bleachers sometime around Game 2, and she’s been his steady, if annoying and cranky, companion ever since. It was a mystery Kevin had been puzzling over for _weeks._

He’d thought she was cool, the bad girl of Carver who wore a leather jacket over their uniform and heavy eyeliner. Turns out, she’s a big softie over nice hair and dark eyes.

“You should go over and talk to Mr. Winchester,” Claire says loudly.

Mr. Novak shakes his head. “He looks busy.”

“It looks like he’s yelling at the umpire,” Claire says with unrestrained glee.

“Like I said, _busy,”_ Mr. Novak says emphatically.

“How well do you know him, anyway?” Claire asks.

“As well as two educators in competing schools would know each other, I suppose,” Mr. Novak says as he shifts in his seat.

“Yeah, that tells me exactly zip,” Claire says, rolling her eyes. “How come you aren’t sitting with lover boy?”

“Claire!” Mr. Novak says sharply.

“What?” Claire crosses her arms across her chest. “I’m just saying.”

“I am still loyal to Carver,” Mr. Novak says primly, nodding to the team.

Claire scoffs, “I bet you’re just chicken.”

“I am not ‘chicken.’”

This was not the first time Kevin saw Mr. Novak do air quotes, but it never ceases to amaze him. 

“Are too,” Claire says, and who the hell ever told Kevin girls mature faster than boys?

Mr. Novak rolls his eyes to the sky, as if praying for patience. “Please drop it, Claire.”

“You really are no fun,” Claire huffs.

“I try my best,” Mr. Novak says, his voice dry as the Sahara.

They watch the next few innings, growing steadily more silent as Edlund racks up more runs and Carver… does not.

Kevin still cheers when Channing’s bat makes contact with the ball. He winces when she gets tagged out at second base.

Clarie is hanging her head in shame as the two teams finally line up to slap hands and mutter “good game.”

“I don’t know why I keep coming to these things,” Claire grumbles. “I’m not a masochist.”

“No, you just like the opportunity to ogle our athletic rivals,” Kevin quips.

“You’re on thin fucking ice, buddy,” Claire says, blindly swatting in his direction as she watches Nieves drink from a water bottle.

Mr. Novak chides under his breath, “Language, Claire.”

“Bite me,” Claire snaps back.

Mr. Novak opens his mouth, hopefully to rebuke her, but someone else interjects first, his tone playful, “You gonna take that lying down, Cas?”

Kevin gapes.

Claire’s mouth falls open. “‘Cas’?” she repeats, her eyes wide.

Novak looks like a someone who just realized they left the house clad only in their underwear.

Mr. Winchester, because of course it’s Mr. Winchester, clambers up on the bleachers. “I can’t believe you finally showed.”

Mr. Novak’s face pinches. “I told you I would come.”

Mr. Winchester grins, slow and easy. “Yeah, but I didn’t believe you.”

Mr. Novak lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Don’t you have children to wrangle?”

“I came here to collect my winnings.”

“Dean,” Mr. Novak complains, “that was hardly a serious bet.”

“I never pegged you for a sore loser,” Mr. Winchester taunts.

“Fine,” Mr. Novak grumbles as he leans forward and quickly presses his mouth to Mr. Winchester’s. “Happy?”

“I’m friggin’ awesome,” Mr. Winchester says smugly.

Claire rounds on Mr. Novak, her face accusatory. “You’re just two educators blah, blah, blah _my ass.”_

Mr. Winchester’s eyebrows rise, his face disapproving and maybe a little impressed. “I thought all you guys at Carver were a bunch of dweebs.”

“Dean,” Mr. Novak says through gritted teeth, “Meet my niece, Claire.”

“The rest of ‘em are all dweebs, trust me,” Claire says dispassionately, jerking her head towards Kevin.

Claire Novak is officially the _worst._

“I’m Kevin Tran,” Kevin says, ignoring her. “Mr. Novak is my Latin teacher.”

“Whaddya know,” Mr. Winchester drawls, “He was mine too.”

“He was?” Kevin asks, looking from Mr. Novak to Mr. Winchester and back again. “But you’re…”

“Old,” Claire finishes for him.

Mr. Novak sighs loudly.

Mr. Winchester snorts. “He was my tutor in high school, actually, while we were both at Edlund.”

Mr. Novak turns pointedly to Mr. Winchester. “Don’t you have a team to get back to?”

“Oh, crap, yeah,” Mr. Winchester says with a wild glance around. He ducks down, kisses Mr. Novak too quickly for Mr. Novak to do anything about it, and jumps off the bleachers.

“I can’t believe your boyfriend is a jock,” Claire says disapprovingly as they watch Mr. Winchester sprint across the field.

Mr. Novak puts his head in his hands.

**Author's Note:**

> Link to the tumblr post [here](https://goldenraeofsun.tumblr.com/post/626916789796929536/wont-you-come-on-over-baby)!
> 
> Up next, a text fic between Teacher!Dean and Teacher!Cas - mostly snippets of lunch break convos and banter.


End file.
